At Last, a Bluebird
by little dark starling
Summary: Episode tag for 6.22 Blue Bird. "Do you think you could call me Patrick?" Jane and Lisbon have a conversation following the events of the finale. One-shot.


**AN: So, I have been so happy over the last couple of days after that finale that I couldn't write a thing. But then this just had to be put down on paper! I hope you enjoy it. It's probably at the higher end of the T rating, but I don't think its quite an M. Let me know if you think I should change it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist nor do I make any money from my stories.**

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Much later, after all the fuss had died down and the official egos had been soothed and all the red tape and forms had been signed and stapled and filed in a drawer somewhere, they at last managed to find themselves alone together. Lisbon lifted her head from where it had been resting on Jane's bare chest, her hand idly tracing circles on the smooth skin of his shoulder, and looked down at him, a slow grin spreading across her face.

"I've just had a thought."

"Mmm?" He opened his eyes and smiled back at her lazily, reaching up with one hand to brush a tendril of dark hair back from her face and attempting to pull free the sheet she held modestly across her chest. She slapped lightly at his fingers.

"Jane! Stop that!"

He gave a broad Cheshire grin and reached again for the sheet, this time tugging it loose and pulling her towards him. She surrendered with a laugh, collapsing onto his chest once more and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Jane, I'm serious," she managed to expostulate between his increasingly urgent peppering of kisses in return.

"Teresa," he stopped his assault on her lips, one hand still holding her chin lightly, "we've just made mad passionate love together, and I'm hoping we're about to do so again, and many times more in the future." He paused then gave her a sly grin. "Do you think you could call me Patrick?"

She blushed an endearingly delicate shade of pink and bit her lip.

"Patrick." She hesitated before saying anything further, as if testing out the sound and feel of his name on her tongue.

"Yes, Teresa," he replied, completely in love with the tiny frown of concentration taking form between her eyebrows as she considered the new moniker. Having decided that it was something to which she could indeed become accustomed, her expression changed back to one of sly teasing.

"I happen to recall, _Patrick_," the sultry emphasis she put on his name sent a delicious shiver down his spine, "you once telling me that you would never seduce me over a meal. That it would be – what was the term you used? – sophomoric? And yet…"

She paused and he took the opportunity to roll them both over until he was now hovering above her. He smiled and began to trace light kisses down the curve of her cheek.

"And yet?" he managed to ask as he paused at her mouth before continuing on his path down her neck.

"And yet," she gripped his shoulders and rolled them back so she was once more on top. Grinning cheekily down at him, she continued, "What do you call last night? The dinner reservations, the gorgeous dresses? Don't try and tell me you weren't planning to seduce me."

He smiled broadly, releasing her and stretching his arms back, eventually bringing his hands to rest behind his head.

"Oh, I was seducing you all right. Just not over the meal. Or at least not _only_ over the meal."

She raised a speculative eyebrow.

"I set up the entire case to seduce you," he continued, a self-satisfied smirk gracing his features. "And you can't say that's sophomoric in the slightest because, after all, sophomores don't have cases. You have to be a real grownup to qualify for those." He leant up for a moment to kiss her nose, abdominal muscles tensing pleasantly beneath her weight. "So, dinner? No, that wasn't the main event. Not by far. I simply knew that there would probably be bad guys showing up at some point during the evening and you would need your strength to tackle them. Or to tackle me later on. So dinner was for purely practical purposes."

He lay there grinning at her and all she could do in response was laugh. Settling herself down to curl up once more at his side, she pressed a kiss to his shoulder and continued her earlier dancing movements with her fingertips.

"I still can't believe you set the whole thing up. And Abbott wasn't even that mad."

"Well, Abbott's a sensible man. He knows a good thing when he sees it. And we did catch the killers after all." He was silent a moment, his arm moving beneath her and drawing her closer. "But you were right, Teresa. I…I used the death of that woman to further my own personal agenda because I was too much of a coward to face you directly."

"Hush, J- Patrick." She leant up on one elbow, placed a finger to his lips, and looked down at him seriously. "I'm sorry I said those things to you. I was just… I was enjoying myself so much all day, and the day before. With you. And it all seemed so spontaneous and easy. And then to find out you had planned the whole thing was a shock, and it reminded me of other times when… when you'd played me."

He made as if to interrupt and she hushed him again.

"No, wait. Let me say this, J- Patrick. I… I'm as much to blame as you for letting things between us get to that point. And I'm sorry." She paused to take a deep breath. "I wasn't honest with myself either about my… my feelings. If I had been, I would never have considered moving to D.C. with Marcus. I would never have considered Marcus. But, like you, I was scared.

"So, anyway," she continued with a short laugh, her hand still on his mouth, his eyes on her face, "what I should be saying is… thank you. For coming up with this whole insane crazy scheme to keep me here, and in doing so making me confront just what it is you mean to me. Because what you mean is…well, everything, Jane. Dammit! Patrick! I can't imagine my life without you in it. Actually, I can, I've been forced to a number of times," she mock-glared at him, "but it's a pretty dismal place."

He pulled her down to him and rocked her gently, taking comfort in the feel of her warm presence within his arms.

"I never thought I could be this happy again, Teresa. God, I love you so much, you have no idea. And to think, if it hadn't been for that other lovelorn schmuck, half-drunk on mini-bar gin, I might have lost you forever." He felt her stiffen in his arms as she began to giggle.

"Patrick Jane, lovelorn schmuck. I like the sound of that." Her amused voice came from somewhere pressed close to his heart.

"Hush, woman," he remonstrated huskily, weaving the fingers of one hand through the waves of her hair. To think, this softness was now his to touch whenever he so desired. Well, almost; he couldn't quite see her tolerating it while they were interviewing suspects or in a team meeting.

"Patrick, one other thing," she didn't lift her head this time, but kept it resting where it lay, happy to listen to the regular sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

"Yes, my dear?" He was almost drifting off to sleep, so warm and comfortable was he.

"How did you convince Wylie to go along with it all? And when did he become such a good actor?"

He gave a short laugh. "Hah! How can you even question that after his brilliant performance as our tortured corpse in that trafficking case? He was so thrilled by our including him in that, he'd do anything to take part in another." There was a pause. "But what makes you think I involved him in this?"

"Oh, come on." She did raise her head this time and gave him a playful pinch. He pretended to wince. "You told me three other people managed to crack your little code, and yet you expect me to believe that our brilliant young FBI analyst couldn't? You're lucky Fischer and Cho didn't figure it out before you 'helped' me."

"That's exactly why I did 'help' you when I did. Ouch!" he exclaimed, as she pinched him again. "I had to hurry you along. You weren't even trying, expecting me to do all the work for you. Hey…!"

The rest of his reply was smothered by a pillow unceremoniously socked at his jaw. He reached for the one behind them and soon there was nothing to be heard in the room except for the irregular thumping of pillows against skin and frequent bursts of hysterical laughter.

At last, exhausted, they sank back amongst the disheveled bedclothes, bodies warm from the unexpected physical exertion. Lisbon pulled herself back onto Jane's chest and closed her eyes, her breathing slowing as her heart rate gradually eased. Jane stroked small circles on the smooth skin of her back, the gentle movements sending them both towards slumber. All that could be heard now was the swish of a gentle breeze in the palm trees outside and the distant crash of the waves on the shore below.

Then, the barest whisper brushed the silence.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

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**AN: What did you think?**


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